


Coffee Machine

by Writing-Classic-Rock (writingfanfic)



Category: The Monkees, The Monkees (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 21:24:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12117522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfanfic/pseuds/Writing-Classic-Rock
Summary: For the prompt: 'Was wondering if you could maybe write a micky/mike/reader smut in which the three are all involved w each other and are in a committed relationship?'I am very bad at smut right now, but enjoy this.





	Coffee Machine

“Mick, goddamn it, what the hell have you done?”

“What the hell  _has_  he done?” you ask sleepily as you walk into the living room, and Mike turns around, rolling his eyes as Micky narrows his.

“Morning, sweetheart.” Micky beams as Mike strides over and kisses you, and then gestures to the shorter man. “He broke the goddamn coffee machine, is what he did.” Micky flutters his lashes, and you raise an eyebrow at his bare chest.

“And he’s shirtless…?”

“I used it to mop up the coffee. I panicked, I am not a forward thinker…” He shrugs, and Mike leans close to your ear, whispering theatrically.

“I could’ve stopped him but… the man has an excellent chest, y’dig?” You nod firmly, and hi-five Mike before Micky lunges across the room to scoop you up and smooch you all over your face; you splutter, pushing at him, before walking into the kitchen to assess the damage, hearing them still crabbing adorably at each other.

“ _Why don’t you greet me like that, Mick?_ ”

“ _You have morning stubble, Mike_.”

“ _Asshole._ ”

“ _Love you._ ”

After breakfast, the three of you sit on the two person sofa – as per usual.

“Okay. So… we have… fourteen-and a half hours of today left to do whatever we like,” Micky says – he is sprawled over you and Mike. You’re gently tickling his knees as Mike plants absent-minded kisses on his forehead whenever he surfaces from the world of whatever-he’s-writing-right-now. Micky will swap around in a moment – the man’s never comfy, instead choosing to lie where it is most inconvenient. He’s like a very big cat, you decide, and then he wriggles around and over, lying his curly head on you. “Fourteen and a third, now, really…”

“But we’ve got to sleep,” you remind him, and as you kiss his nose, he grins.

“So if we go to bed at 9pm like good little girls and boys…”

“Not goddamn likely,” Mike mutters, turning a page.

“You’re screwing up my calculations, Mike, shut up,” Micky mumbles, and yelps as Mike pinches his thigh sharply. “You’re so mean. Okay, so probably… one a.m. So technically… we’ve got fifteen and a third.”

“I want to just go back to bed,” you yawn, and Mike opens his mouth to argue; you and Micky furrow your brows and pout at the same time, and he looks at you in mild fear.

“That shit is scary. Don’t do that.”

You hi-five Micky, and Mike rolls his eyes.

“I am here for going back to bed,” Micky announces loudly; Mike looks over at you, and you both smirk at the same time. “What?”

Next second, Mike has his legs, and you his arms; you kiss him, passionately, and he relaxes into it for a second, until Mike starts tickling his stomach and he yelps into your mouth, flailing wildly. You sit back, giggling, and Micky twists so hard he falls off the couch; you grin, and Mike pulls you in close, kissing you.

“I hurt myself,” Micky pouts, and Mike pulls him up, kissing him too. “Aww. He does love me.” You lean against them, and Micky lies across you again, head on your lap – he falls asleep as you lean against Mike, and his soft scribblings and Micky’s snores are what lull you back to sleep. You are a very lucky woman.


End file.
